Chapter 1062: Some Roads Are Doomed from the Start

Chapter 1062: Some Roads Are Doomed from the Start

The shattered high-rises stood on the desolate plain, like a giant covered in wounds.

The walls, riddled with holes, gasped thick black smoke, much like the broken spirit of the citizens of the Free State of Brugla.

Occasional explosions no longer drew anyone's attention.

After all, over the past year, the residents of this settlement had heard too many sounds like this.

This was Brugla.

It was less an ideal city on the wasteland and more a colossal prison.

Though it sounded like a dark joke, it was still a bit cooler than a zoo.

Dragging pale blue plasma trails, four "Viper" light transport planes roared over the southern district of Brugla City.

Sitting at the edge of the cabin, I, Zuì Hēi, looked down at the broken skyscrapers below and couldn't help but click my tongue.

"Such a tragedy."

Kakarot, sitting across from me, shrugged his shoulders, showing little sympathy for the people here.

"They brought it on themselves."

The entire settlement was like a giant vacuum cleaner, sucking up all the garbage from the wasteland, and when it was full, it churned it up and spat it back out.

99% of raiders indirectly or directly sold their loot here, while also buying weapons here.

Ideal City at least exported some order to the wasteland, even if that order wasn't always good.

But here, only chaos was exported—indeed, it was itself one of the sources of chaos.

The lowest-level corporate dogs lived in 20-square-meter single rooms, carrying loans that would take a century to repay, using super AI refrigerators that required 30 seconds of iris scanning to open. On the surface, they exploited no one, but the 20-square-meter rooms, the trick-laden loans, and the refrigerators were all designed by them, and these things harmed far more than just themselves.

After all, there were millions of unemployed living in coffin-sized spaces of less than four square meters, contributing cheap, almost negligible lifespan and labor, like "decomposers" in an ecosystem, breaking down the surplus of the entire massive system, while serving as the lubricant between the city of sin and the wasteland.

The gangs outside Boulder City actually came from here.

And that wasn't all. Firestone Group's most profitable industries were weapons and various addictive substances, harming far more than just the residents of the Free State of Brugla.

In this system of complicit crime, it was hard to find a truly innocent victim. Those who had woken up had long since left this place, not waiting until the cage fell to start screaming.

What were they doing before?

At least, that was how he saw it.

Rather than helping these scumbags reform, he'd rather go to Triumph City to attend his good brother's wedding.

The first weekend of January every year was the birthday of the Vland people, and they set the wedding for the third day after that birthday.

If he couldn't make it, that guy would have to hold another ceremony in Dawn City.

"Let the past be the past. Even shaming them is meaningless. At least they've woken up now."

Patting Kakarot on the shoulder, Spring Commander pressed his finger against the side of his helmet, switched the comm channel to the entire squad, and shouted to the rookies on the other three planes.

"Alright, rookies, we're almost there. Remember your mission: clear the way for the NPCs at the Refugee Home and the relief supplies, establish a safe zone at the coordinates, avoid civilian casualties, don't fire unless necessary—unless it's gang members—"

Before Spring could finish his sentence, a burst of rapid gunfire crackled from a nearby high-rise.

Bullets whizzed through the air, not even grazing the tail flames of the four Vipers.

Those armed men were neither Firestone Group employees nor the Hound special forces controlled by the city hall, but raiders who had sneaked into the city amid the chaos.

Calling it "sneaking in" wasn't accurate either. Many raiders in this area were themselves mercenaries or gang members of the Free State, and some notorious mercenary groups had even gone public.

Several thugs with cybernetic tattoos on their faces flipped off the roaring planes, and one with a Mohawk even clamped his rifle between his legs, making a weird pissing gesture.

That was probably how cyber-psychos claimed sovereignty—maybe trying to say this building belonged to them now.

Unexpectedly rude, Spring's brow twitched sharply. He muttered, "Don't waste bullets," and switched the comm channel to the rear command post.

"...I've got a situation here. Requesting a drone."

"Copy."

In less than a minute, a black dot dropped from the sky. As it approached the southern district of the Free State, it unfolded four folding rotor blades to decelerate, and with a "whoosh," flew toward the building that had fired on the "Storm Squad."

The gang members on the rooftop, unaware of the danger, sneered and retreated into their rooftop hideout when the Alliance planes ignored them.

The drone didn't attack immediately. It circled the top floor, marking the attackers' identities and confirming no civilians were present, then crashed through a window.

With the shatter of glass, a five-kilogram fragmentation warhead detonated instantly, spraying thousands of steel pellets in all directions amid blazing fire and thick smoke!

Several gang members sitting on the sofa, smoking, had no time to react. In terror, they and the sofa and wall behind them were turned into something like a honeycomb by the hail of bullets.

Floor-level precision strike.

Only a little smoke drifted out of the broken window.

"Done."

The intelligence-type player sitting in the cabin opened his eyes and gave a thumbs-up to Spring.

The latter nodded and continued explaining the server rules to the eager rookies in the squad.

Calling them rookies, these guys were actually around level 20, not lacking combat experience, just short on team-fighting experience.

But come to think of it, the "entry threshold" for this game was getting higher and higher.

Now, without at least 8,000 hours of online time, you couldn't even call yourself a veteran player...

...

Passing through a dense forest of steel, the formation of four Vipers soon reached the destination.

The mission target was an ecological park in the southwestern district of the Free State.

This egg-shaped landmark building had once been the private garden of Firestone Group's upper management and the wealthy, and the nearby standalone villas were so expensive they were priced in megacredits.

But that was all in the past.

Now, the entire area was under the control of Mayor Odo's "Hound" special forces and police, serving as a safe zone to shelter nearby civilians, and had been entrusted to the Alliance's Refugee Home for management.

This was part of the cooperation between the authorities and the Alliance.

Although the local war was over, restoring order was still a long way off.

In the dense steel forest, not only were remnants of Firestone Group hiding, but also raider organizations taking advantage of the chaos and gangs trying to replace Firestone Group.

The troops stationed there had to secure the safe zone before they could spare the effort to clean up the mess.

To be honest, the Free State now was like a giant whale stranded on the beach—and one many times larger than Boulder City once was.

If a whale explosion occurred, its terrifying power would far surpass the collapse of Boulder City's inner city.

But fortunately, the Alliance had grown, with far more experience and capability than before.

Not only that, but Boulder City, having emerged from its own shadows, had become a stronger existence than before.

Those already living in the new era wouldn't abandon the survivors struggling in the northern part of the Valley Province.

The person who came to meet them was Colonel Edem, commander of the 4th Regiment of the Hound Special Forces.

Striding toward the helipad, he wore a bulky exoskeleton, looking like the iron baboons of the Jungle Corps.

Spring Commander had read his file and found that this guy was actually an old acquaintance of the Alliance, having fought alongside several Alliance regiments on Ten Peaks Mountain before.

Including the adjutant named Tang Feng who followed behind Adam, a volunteer who seemed to have come from Ideal City, also a veteran who had descended from Ten Peaks Mountain.

Besides that, Quanshui was surprised to discover some Verlanders, actually mixed into the volunteer ranks.

"Thank you, you've finally come." Patting Quanshui's arm, Adam said with a grateful expression.

Quanshui smiled faintly, reached out and tapped his fist lightly against Adam's shoulder armor.

"Saying that makes it too formal. Leave this to us; go help your brothers."

Adam nodded solemnly, pressed his fist to his chest in a military salute, then without another word, strode briskly toward the entrance of the safe zone.

That was his duty after all.

He had to fulfill it himself.

Quanshui watched him leave, then turned his gaze to the safe zone not far away. After reporting the local situation to the command center, he prepared to assist the NPCs from the Refugee Home in handing over work with the local security personnel.

After all, Bugula City was not a settlement of the Alliance, and its local residents were not Alliance citizens.

Although Mayor Odo and his supporters had the intention of clinging to the Alliance's coattails, the Alliance was not a place one could come and go as one pleased.

Too many things were involved; it couldn't be decided on a whim.

Especially since the vast majority of Alliance citizens did not have a very favorable impression of Bugula's residents.

However, although the Administrator had not immediately approved Bugula's "application to join the Alliance," he had granted it the status of "Collaborator" and promised to hold referendums in both places when conditions were appropriate.

That time might be a year, maybe two, but it wouldn't be too long.

At the same time, a dense crowd was gathered in front of the checkpoint not far from the tarmac.

They were all residents of Bugula, but not entirely Bugula residents... for instance, Mr. Haus, who was squeezed into the front row.

When he saw the Alliance plane land on the tarmac, he rushed over recklessly as if grasping at a lifeline, until he was stopped by soldiers from the Hound Special Forces.

Staring at the arms and the checkpoint blocking his way, Haus, as if stricken with madness, let out a shrill scream with his raspy voice.

"Get out of my way! You pack of wild dogs! Do you know who I am?! I'm from Boulder City! I'm also an Alliance citizen!"

He wished he could immediately board a plane to Dawn City.

The two things he regretted most in his life were, first, not exchanging his Bugula dollars, which had collapsed overnight, for silver coins ahead of others, and second, not escaping this rotten gutter before the war broke out.

These words actually left the soldiers at a loss, unsure of what to do for a moment.

There were indeed some Alliance citizens in the safe zone, and even quite a few in the volunteer ranks.

Just as everyone was in a dilemma, Commander Quanshui arrived with his people.

Seeing that familiar face in the crowd, Wo Zuihei, standing beside him, brightened up and swaggered over with a grin.

"Yo, Mr. Haus, long time no see. How are you still alive?"

Hearing the voice behind him, the soldier on duty immediately turned around and saluted.

Commander Quanshui nodded to them, signaling with his eyes "leave this to me," then walked up to Haus, whose face had turned pale, and stared into his eyes.

"Your ID number?"